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(Stephon Marbury)

 

Ideal: to drive the lane and look for dishes,

to see the open man, give him his bucket.

 

The one-on-one for which we are now counseled

blueprints a perfect symmetry that’s hard to hold.

 

Like my friend who dreams of his ex

and wakes to find a moonlit lawn of deer.

 

In our nightly houses

the dolls insist that we are faithful to ourselves.

 

When I wake up in a bad mood,

I wonder why my point ignores my shooting guard.

 

This realm of giving, this realm of reciprocity:

I need a Mr. Make-It-Happen,

 

a deus ex machina, an all-star

down among us who deigns to fix our gears.

 

Until then, these reuptake inhibitors are splendid,

as when I find myself a deer on some strange lawn,

 

my garden-party head a promiscuity of maps

with toll-free grassy lanes and cul-de-sacs.

from Void and CompensationFind more by Michael Morse at the library

Copyright © 2015 Michael Morse
Used with the permission of Canarium Books.

Published in Michael Morse Poems

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this (publication, website, exhibit, etc.) do not necessarily represent those of the Idaho Humanities Council or the National Endowment for the Humanities.

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